🙋🏻‍♀️ Hello everyone and welcome to a new series of my long-distance hiking adventures! 🥾

This time not in Germany – but in Sweden for a change! I’d been craving a hike that felt a little out of my comfort zone, something that would give me the jolt of newness I’d been missing. It could just as well have been Poland, Spain, or even France, but in the end, Sweden – or shall I say “Sverige” (pronounced as “Sver-yeh”) – won the casting call. And out of my comfort zone it ABSOLUTELY has been.

👋 Now, a small disclaimer before we set off: the first ‘day’, which is being described in this post, is actually my observant and dreamy travel day from Germany to Sweden. There’s no hiking in it. But since for me the buildup is part of the adventure, and this was my very first time heading to Sweden, it felt important to include a post about it. However, if you’d rather skip straight to the walking part, no hard feelings — you’ll find the real hike starting with Day 2, which is in the process of being written. 😌

🎉 For everyone else, buckle up for a ride full of dreaminess, some chaotic moments, excitement, mixed with a hint of clumsiness that is me. Let’s start!

(Estimated read time: 26 minutes)

🇪🇬 Do you prefer to read this post in Egyptian Arabic? Click here.

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September 19, 2025 – Day 1
(Train & Ferry Trip from Germany to Sweden)

✨ Part I – Morning Weightlifting

I wake up around 6:00 AM, after repeatedly snoozing for a full half hour. Luckily the question of “whether I really want to risk snoozing one more time and ruining my full hike before even starting it” hits the right nerve, and pushes me to get out of bed.

Putting on the lights (yes, it’s still dark) and preparing the right cup of morning coffee starts giving this day the feeling that it’s here, and my hike is actually happening. Sweden, I’m less than 24 hours away!

I revisit today’s plan in my head, while I sip my coffee and do some routine morning stretches to wake up my sleepy body. Today’s plan goes as follows: I’ll be taking the train from Berlin all the way to Rostock (a German city by the Baltic Sea), and after a short transit stop, I will be taking the ferry (with huge excitement) to a coastal city called Trelleborg in Sweden, where I’ll be spending the first night. The next day, I’ll take a train to Järna (a Swedish city south-west of Stockholm), and from there I will be starting my official hike.

I pack up the last remaining things, expressing a big thank you to my past self for doing such a good job packing 90% of the things yesterday, so I wouldn’t have to worry about this now. I get dressed, excited to try on my upgraded hiking outfit, and I do my best to ignore the little shock I get while swinging the backpack over my shoulders and realizing how heavy it is. I comfort myself with the idea that it will get lighter with every passing day. Off we go!

✨ Part II – Cheered On By Marathoners

07:45 AM. By the time I’m on my way to the train station, the sky is light and the day has started. The air feels a little chilly and damp in a refreshing way. Berlin’s streets aren’t crowded yet, but dozens of runners jog past me, training for the marathon that shall take place this weekend. I can’t help but smile — their determined steps feel like a kind of encouragement, reminding me that I’m not alone in this challenge I’m about to begin.

I notice my motivation’s still low, my legs feel a bit stiff, and I’m annoyed at failing to find a comfortable way of holding my not-so-light camera. But I remind myself that I’m familiar with this discomfort always being part of the “warmup” to the hike, and I’ll figure out a better way along the way, just like I always do.

At the train station, I jump onto an S-Bahn (urban rapid railway) that takes me to the central station. Happily, I realize I have a full half hour before the train to Rostock departs — a little luxury I take advantage of to get some snacks for the trip.

Halfway down the escalator to the right platform I clumsily try to take a few photos to document the start of this day, but it’s too busy and I’m too overwhelmed, so I give up after a couple of attempts.

The platform is really crowded with what I assume to be at least 200 people. And not long after arriving, the first bad news announcement is heard: ten minute delay. Then, a couple minutes after: twenty minute delay. Really annoying, but… it wouldn’t be the German railway without a delay after all.

I remind myself to stay calm and use the time to people-watch instead. There’s a wide range to be entertained by — solo travelers in all styles and ages, with and without dogs, couples hugging each other, older people with neat little suitcases, big groups of students on their senior trips, reminding me of my older school days. It’s a miniature world to observe and daydream about, and somehow that lightens the feeling of waiting.

When the train finally arrives (unsurprisingly at a different platform), the whole crowd surges into motion to board. Luckily, the platform is just opposite of the one originally planned, so there’s no need for me to heave my backpack up the stairs in a wild sprint… along with a hundred other people. A small victory — but one I’ll take!

✨ Part III – The Seat Challenge

With some luck, I spot a three-seater where only one older woman is sitting, her bag carefully guarding the seat in front of her. I ask, as politely as possible, if the spot is free. She hesitates, then admits only one is available, not both. “That’s perfect,” I reply with excitement, relieved to have somewhere to settle — and even some space beside me for my bulky backpack.

“It’s really full today, isn’t it?” she says to me, with surprised eyes and a dissatisfied expression.
“Yes, very much so,” I answer, offering her a sympathetic smile.

I watch her in amusement, as she repeatedly shoos away other desperate passengers from the seat she’s saving. The poor woman looks tense, and I can’t help but remember the last time I tried to guard a seat for a friend who was late and how stressful it was to turn people away while the train filled up so fast. Today, I’m glad it’s not my responsibility.

Around four stations later, the friend my seat-neighbour has been guarding the place for finally arrives. The two women look so alike in aura and manner that I assume they must have known each other for years. We exchange polite smiles, then return to our own worlds. Mine, for now, consists of daydreaming out the window, immersing myself in music, wandering between meditative questions about the universe and nervous excitement about my trip ahead, while Berlin slides by in its usual grey palette, softened only by trees and the occasional balcony overflowing with lush green plants.

The weather is cloudy, uninspiring, but then again — I won the snooze challenge, made it out of my bed and onto the train on time, and that in itself is enough to spark some motivation. The journey has begun!

✨ Part IV – You’ve Got This

Around 11:30 AM, the train pulls into Rostock. The next step is to take another S-Bahn to a station called Lütten-Klein, where I’ll switch to a bus that goes directly to the ferry terminal. As I know the station from past trips to the sea, so navigating through the crowds doesn’t throw me off, and I find the S-Bahn easily.

At first, I’m lucky enough to enjoy the comfort of a four-seater to myself for a few stations. But soon, two women join — one of them has sharply tattooed eyebrows and throws me a smile. I smile back, wondering how I must look with hiking poles sticking out of my backpack like antennae.

At another stop, a group of eight middle-aged men pile in, luggage in tow, spilling across the remaining seats and blocking half the hallway. I already start planning how I’ll maneuver past them with my backpack without looking entirely ridiculous.

To add to my anxiety, the announcements on the train aren’t working, and strangely, the station names aren’t even visible on the platforms, no matter how hard I look.

“Well, you know what to do!”, I tell myself. I’ve been in this situation before and know a trick. I keep Google Maps open, tracking the little dot that is me, as I float through the map, while the train moves, all the way to my destination. All it needs is some focus and trust that I’ve got this.

One station before Lütten-Klein, I awkwardly heave the backpack on while still seated, trying to give the impression that I know what I’m doing – both to myself and everyone around me. One of the men catches my eye and gives me a warm, reassuring smile. It helps. I balance my way past their luggage (thank you, daily Yoga exercises!), squeeze through to the door, and step into the outside air with a deep sigh of relief. Mission accomplished!

12:00 PM. The walk to the bus stop is straightforward, though I groan when I realize the next bus isn’t due for another 20 minutes. Hmm. Continue standing in this bland greyness or go explore and see if I can grab a coffee somewhere? Easy choice!

I wander back to the station and spot a small service store. The cashier, a black-haired woman with strikingly blue eyes, greets me, and I ask — with all the charm I can muster — if there’s a toilet. She smiles, hands me a key, and I find myself in a basic little room, happy just to freshen up and check if my braids still look halfway presentable.

Afterwards, I return to the counter to give back the key and to buy a coffee. A self-serve filter coffee, nothing fancy, but the simple act of pouring it myself feels grounding. With the warm cup in hand, I head back to the bus stop. Ten minutes left. The platform slowly fills with people, who, by their quiet expectancy, are clearly waiting for the same bus.

Then I see it: the bus has been sitting just across the street the entire time, only five steps away. But when departure time comes, the driver pulls out of his spot, out of the station, onto the main street, circles the block in a U-turn, and comes back around to park neatly in front of us. I can’t help but chuckle in disbelief.
Tell me you’re in Germany without telling me you’re in Germany...

✨ Part V – Egypt Pays An Anecdotal Visit

12:20 PM. We board the bus and I settle near the back, surrounded by men in worker uniforms chatting amongst themselves. One of them has such a heavy dialect I barely catch half of what he’s saying, but it doesn’t matter — their banter is oddly comforting.

I stay alert for the stop announcements, since here you have to press the red “STOP” button or the bus won’t stop at your station, unless someone else is waiting for the bus there. The name “Seehafen Fähre” (lake harbor ferry) finally comes, and I press it in time, though the bus still takes a full ten minutes to arrive there.

Somewhere along the way, one of the men suddenly launches into a story about driving in Egypt and how cheap it is to get a license there. He swears you can do it in two weeks for 160 euros, though you can’t use it abroad. I laugh quietly to myself at the randomness of this conversation, as if Egypt has just stepped into the bus with us. He goes on about taxes and car prices in a way that makes little sense to me, but his confidence is entertaining enough.

12:35 PM. At last, the bus pulls into a wide industrial-looking area filled with trucks and scattered cars under a hazy sky. No sign of the sea yet. Everyone gets off, and I follow the men toward a reddish building that looks promising.

Inside, it’s quiet — just a few travelers, some self-check-in counters, and no visible staff. I look for “StenaLine,” the company I booked with, only to later discover today’s sailing is run by “TT-Line.” A hastily taped paper sign and a not-so-enthusiastic clerk behind a counter, send me back through another set of doors until I finally find the right counter.

There, an older woman with short white hair greets me with genuine warmth and enthusiasm. After the indifference of the first clerk, her friendliness catches me off guard. She excitedly checks my ticket with a big smile and wide open attentive eyes, confirms my cabin, does not bother checking my ID, and hands me a small boarding pass that also serves as my cabin key. Relief washes over me. My online reservation worked!

“One of those red shuttle buses will take you to the ferry,” she explains, while pointing to some neatly parked red buses outside. “They’ll come about half an hour before departure time.”

Since it’s still 12:45 PM and the bus should come at 1:30 PM, that leaves me with almost an hour to wait — enough time for a snack, a deep breath, and to notice that the sun, at last, is beginning to shyly show itself through the hazy sky. A small gift, right here at the edge of the sea, which to this moment I cannot yet see. Still, it’s a gift I’ll happily take!

✨ Part VI – Rejected Together

The time passes quietly, in that way waiting hours sometimes do, carried forward by little fragments of observation that turn into their own kind of meditation. At first it’s just me and another woman, but slowly the wind-shielded room fills with other travelers, each one adding their own small presence to the scene. Across from me an older couple occupies a bench; the woman is loudly narrating her discovery of how her phone works, as if each small revelation requires to be shared with such excitement, and I can’t help but smile. Right behind them another couple sits in perfect contrast — silent, companionable, nibbling on snacks with deep serenity.

Then a young man with blond hair rolls in with his bicycle and cycling gear. Without hesitation, he looks at the group and asks in the sweetest, most excited way if someone could watch his bike while he buys a ticket. “But of course!” I reply immediately, touched by the trust in his voice, that simple assumption of goodwill between strangers.

The waiting room continues to populate in this gradual, almost choreographed fashion. A trio of backpackers — two young women and a curly-haired man, who catches my attention with his colorful clothes and red-patterned keffiyeh — spreads itself across a corner. A young couple stands by the glass wall, locked in a loop of hugs, clearly preparing for a farewell. Three more female solo travelers appear, one with a dog and a backpack so large, I’m humbled by her capability to carry it, in comparison to mine.

1:20 PM. By the time a red shuttle bus finally pulls up, we’ve formed a short line, united by nothing more than our collective wish to finally be taken to the ferry. Everyone takes their turn, only for the driver to shake his head at each presented ticket with the same firm, but comically pronounced words: “Nein, auch nicht!” (Meaning: No, also not.) One after the other is turned away, and when my turn comes and I reluctantly show my boarding pass, I too earn my own “Nein, auch nicht!” — the sixth in a row — which sets the group giggling, myself included. There’s something oddly bonding in being rejected together.

We linger on the pavement as one bus after the other passes us by. Ten minutes stretch into twenty, and I watch a driver at another red bus wrestle with its door, prying it open with annoyed confusion. “Is that our bus?” I wonder, half amused, half worried, but of course, only time will tell. My gaze drifts unwillingly toward a group of four police officers nearby, busy stopping vans and cars that had just deboarded a ferry for spot checks. It feels uncomfortable to watch, but like everyone else I catch myself glancing over again and again, the collective curiosity too strong to resist.

And then, at last, our bus arrives — with a delay, but whole and functioning. We climb aboard in a flurry of relief, and just like that we’re finally on our way to the ferry.

✨ Part VII – The Labyrinth Of The Ferry

1:45 PM. The bus drops us in front of a gigantic ferry, probably the largest I’ve ever seen. Boarding, however, turns out to be far less straightforward than I’d imagined…

I step down, camera in hand, torn between wanting to grab a few photos and the rising urgency of simply not losing my fellow travelers, as there isn’t a single person around to ask for directions, if I get lost. I fall in step behind three fellow travelers who seem, at least in that moment, to know what they’re doing. They stride confidently up the ramp that has been lowered for cars and trucks, and I, with no better plan, follow them straight into the cave-like garage — a space large enough to hold at least thirty trucks and hundreds of cars.

It’s there, wedged between this monstruously long line of vehicles, that one of the other women suddenly interrupts the silence: “Do you all actually know where we’re going, or are you just following?”

I admit that I was just trailing along, reassured by the bus driver’s lack of objection when he saw us on the ramp. To be safe, I call out to the trio ahead, asking as sweetly as I can: “Are you sure you know where you’re going?” One of them turns around, nods, says a quick yes, and keeps walking. But only a few steps later we’re caught in a dead end, pinned between trucks, with no sign of an exit.

The nervous traveler seizes the chance to give us an impromptu lecture on ferry safety — apparently we were supposed to board from the outside, through a ladder. With some awkwardness, we walk all the way back, only to find that no such ladder exists. Where to go? The woman starts nervously approaching a security cabin, seeking anyone to ask for directions, only to find it empty. We spot a couple of men wearing vests and guiding trucks into position in the distance, but they seem way too busy to interrupt. None of us have the nerve to walk across to them.

The woman who had first guided the way into the garage uses the chance to insist that this was the right way, and that’s the way she’s always done it. So, obediently, we head back into the garage. This time I notice, from a distance, a row of doors leading to stairways and elevators. I point them out, and our spirits lift as we head toward them, laughing at the absurdity of our situation.

At the door, the curly-haired man in the keffiyeh presses a large black button that looks more like a knob than anything else, and a sliding door opens. We stand at crossroads again – where to now? And is this even the right door? There are three other ones down the hallway…

As every person tries to make sense of the situation, I notice the giant letter signs above each door, matching the letters printed on our boarding passes. I try to draw attention to this logic, but I fail to get through to anyone, so I wave awkwardly and head toward the door marked with an “A” on my own, which is where my cabin is supposed to be.

Two weary-looking men in worker clothes glance at me as I wait for the elevator. Their mood doesn’t invite conversation and I don’t feel very welcome, so I choose to take the stairs instead. It isn’t until I’m halfway up that I notice I’ll have to climb all the way to level nine. I give the elevator another chance, only to find it slow and, when it finally arrives, already full. Fine. I’ll walk.

Step after step, past orange-painted walls, two men fixing lights in the ceiling, a couple of doors that lead nowhere, I at last emerge into a bright, super calm corridor. To my surprise the ferry feels less like a ship and more like a freshly polished, modern hotel — patterned walls, soft LED strips, soft rugged carpet underfoot. It’s incredibly quiet. I encounter just one couple wandering in search of their own room.

And then, in the middle of one insignificant hallway, the magic number appears: 9519. My cabin! I slip the boarding pass into the slot, wait for the green light, and feel a giant wave of relief when the door clicks open.

✨ Part VIII – Blissfully Afloat

2:00 PM. I’m pleasantly surprised at how nice the cabin is. Clean, spacious, a lovely sea view — AND a bathroom with a shower! I’d expected a tiny crammed box where I could barely lay down my bags, so this exceeds all expectations and gives the vibe of a small sanctuary on this gigantic ship.

After taking the first set of photos and videos, I settle onto the bed and gaze out the window. We’ve started moving. The harbor glides past in slow motion, white-foamed waves forming around the ship, and I’m amazed by the height I’m looking down at the sea from.

There’s a constant white noise and light pressure in the air, which oddly soothes me. Along with the magnificent sea view, settling in proves to be incredibly calming, and I thank myself for spending a few extra bucks to book this cabin with a view.

2:40 PM. After some time stretching my legs and letting them relax after the stiff train ride, my explorer mode kicks in. Shoes on, grateful for some time away from the backpack, I take a discovery stroll around the ferry, a labyrinth in itself. Signs lead everywhere and nowhere — a sauna here (oh, how I wish I’d known beforehand!), three restaurants pointing in opposite directions, a shop somewhere — so I follow the subtle sounds of laughter and music coming from the distance instead.

The sounds lead me up some stairs, and then some more, until I I find around five different seating areas; one of them comes with a lounge-y vibe, the other feels more casual, the rest provides a mix of cantine-feeling and stylish bookstore. I really like the variety! And then, a few twists and turns later, I stumble onto a sun deck.

Stepping outside feels almost like a trance. Hazy sunlight filters through a soft, sleepy atmosphere. Two groups of men in work clothes enjoy large glasses of beer near the entrance; lounge chairs stretch out under the sun, mostly occupied with people lazily spread all over them, each in their own space. Wooden steps in the middle hold a few scattered seniors along with two young men, who are stretching in the sun. I walk slowly, taking it all in — the calmness, the warm light, the gentle movements around me.

I head back inside briefly for a hot chocolate. With the drink in hand, I return to the wooden steps, settle down, lean back, and close my eyes. The mix of euphoria, serenity, gentle observation, and warmth of the chocolate feels like the perfect pause in the middle of the journey.

✨ Part IX – Dinner And Golden Light

3:30 PM. Eventually, reality calls me back and I decide to head back inside to eat. Vegetarian options are limited, but a vegan sausage with fries will do. I pick a corner seat in the cantine-style area, which gives me a bit of privacy, a glowing sea view, and a sweeping perspective over the rest of the space.

I savor each bite, fully aware that this will be my last restaurant meal for a few days. The first hikes will be solitary, remote, with no shops or restaurants and no capacity to cook sophisticated warm meals. Knowing this makes every fry, every bite of sausage, more precious.

4:00 PM. With about three hours left before docking, I wander back to my cabin for a rest and a short meditation. By the time I reach my room, the sunlight streams through the window, and I feel grateful for the peaceful space, letting the sunshine wash over me with warmth. I change into comfortable clothes, sit on the bed, and close my eyes. Ambient music fills the background as I imagine the sunlight as flowing love, filling me from head to toe. Slowly, I lay back, surrendering to one of the most serene sleeps I’ve had in a long while.

✨ Part X – Patience, Patience And Some More Patience

6:30 PM. The alarm nudges me awake, gently, as the ferry’s arrival looms. I linger in the semi-dream, trying to get a few extra minutes of sleep, until the crew’s loud announcement brings me fully back to the reality that I have to leave this cabin within thirty minutes, as we’re approaching the shore soon. Oh no!

Sunset spreads across the water, a quiet reward for being dragged out of that perfect sleep. I stretch, pack my things, and take one last look at the cabin in gratitude for this experience. I then make my way to the restaurant area, finding space by three massive windows overlooking the sea, settling in with my camera to capture the changing light.

7:00 PM. An announcement notifies us “travelers without a vehicle” that we need to wait by the restaurant area to be guided on from there. I stand up and head there. After a few more minutes, other travelers arrive — the curly-haired man and his companions, the dog-owning solo traveler, the blond woman who’d been hugging her partner all the time. And now we wait. 10, 15, and then 20 minutes pass… No updates, nothing. We’ve docked, but as pedestrians we’re not allowed to leave the ferry on our own.

7:20 PM. Countering the lingering boredom, the blond woman strikes up a conversation in German, curious about where I’m headed. I tell her it’s my first time in Sweden, and I’ll be hiking on my own, starting from Järna all the way to Eskilstuna (more on that in the next posts!). She mentions she lives in Sweden but still has a train ride ahead of her, and warmly expresses support for my solo hike. She also jokes about how slowly everything moves here, referring to the slowness of getting us off this ship. But can anything possibly be slower than Germany? I silently doubt it.

“This is a real patience test,” I say, as we hit the thirty-minute mark waiting, and a ripple of laughter passes through the group. Our eyes keep glancing at the staff — one of which is holding a walkie-talkie, clearly communicating with someone. The cashier glances at us with an almost apologetic look for the wait, continuing to clean and dry equipment. Then, suddenly, a man in a yellow vest appears out of nowhere, and everyone stares, wide-eyed and excited, only for him to vanish just as quickly behind a door. Sigh.

7:40 PM. Finally, a full forty minutes after docking, another young man with dark hair, a solid build, and a vest approaches, announcing that we’re ready to go. Sweetly, he asks if anyone needs help carrying anything. We all freeze, surprised by the offer, thinking we misheard. He spots the girl with the dog and her enormous backpack, asking if he should carry hers. With wide open eyes expressing her surprise, she excitedly takes the offer and hands the bag over. Seconds later, the whole group erupts in laughter as the man struggles under the weight, exclaiming in shock about how heavy it really is.

We follow him through hallways, across the sun deck that is now cast with a navy-blue evening sky, down a flight of stairs, and into an elevator. The girl owning the heavy backpack gets assigned to the second elevator group, so as soon as the doors close upon us in the elevator, the man again leads the group to a moment of laughter, as he again complains about the weight: “I don’t know what’s in that bag, but it’s heavy!” Once downstairs in the gigantic garage, we wait by the door, and I watch trucks rumble past, some of them loaded with brand-new cars. I again feel amazed at the sheer capacity of the ship.

He guides us to the shuttle bus and says a sweet goodbye, before the bus takes us to the port gate. Darkness has settled, but a gentle warm breeze keeps the air pleasant and my excitement for this adventure fresh.

As I rush through a door held open by a harbor worker, after getting off the bus, I get so absorbed in finding the right path that when I turn to wave goodbye, I notice the rest of the group has already moved on toward the train station. A feeling of sadness hits me, as I hope I haven’t given the impression of indifference — but now that the moment’s gone, I say my farewell on a heart level and choose to shift my focus on the quiet relief of having arrived.

8:00 PM. The city is quiet and its streets empty. A bus glides by, and a pair of teenage girls chatter loudly, each with a phone in one hand and balancing an e-scooter with the second. Darkness, calmness, and stillness wrap around me, and between rushed steps to the apartment I’ve booked for the night, I start feeling like I’ve arrived.

8:20 PM. A couple of kilometers later, I reach the apartment and check in without much difficulty. As soon as I’m inside, I let my backpack fall to the floor with a sigh of relief. A warm shower follows, then a simple dinner, before I finally close the blinds, letting the day gently settle behind me. Grateful for a smooth start, I feel my curiosity stirring for what tomorrow might hold…

…and oh, it promises some surprises.

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If you’ve read this far, I’d like to express a deep, heartfelt THANK YOU. ❤️ It means so much to me that you’ve taken the time to accompany me from the first chapter of my journey, and I can’t wait to share the rest with you. The next post shall be up in 1-2 weeks – stay tuned!

💛 If you enjoyed reading my daydreams and would like to support me or express a small thank you, maybe you’d like to buy me a coffee? ☕ I LOVE coffee, and be assured it’s a guaranteed way to give me a BIG moment of happiness. ☺️ 💁🏻‍♀️

🖼️ If you liked the photos and would like a print or to use any of them as a wallpaper, please feel free to reach out to me! 🫶

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